


All About the Secrets

by logans_girl2001



Series: Vampire Series [4]
Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: American Politics, M/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:41:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27442099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/logans_girl2001/pseuds/logans_girl2001
Summary: Nick makes a decision that will change the future of Sylum Clan
Relationships: Warrick Brown/Nick Stokes
Series: Vampire Series [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1227773
Kudos: 1





	All About the Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this story after the 2016 election because I firmly believe that if this Vampire universe was real, then Trump would try and tighten the restrictions on Registered Vampires as well as undoing Nick's agreement with the government that allows members of Sylum to remain unRegistered without punishment. And that's why Nick was worried enough to ask President Obama not to tell Trump about Sylum Clan's involvement with the government. But then it got lost on my hard drive (that'll teach me to give the file a stupid name). I found it again just before the 2020 election, and so I finished it with the addition of Nick going to talk to President Biden about Sylum.
> 
> I'm pretty sure I made up a family history for Michelle.

Slipping my jacket up over my shoulders, I turn to where my Mate is dozing in the bed, all tangled up in the sheets with a smirk firmly in place that shows just how much he enjoyed waking me up. "You sure you don't want to go with me, Rick? I know how much he means to you."

"I'm sure, Nick. This is something I have no desire to be a part of."

I sigh and adjust my cuffs before leaning down and pressing a kiss to his stubbled cheek. "But you know that once business is concluded we could very well be invited for lunch."

One hazel eye opens before closing again. "Then push it to dinner. Use giving the staff, and Michelle, more notice as your excuse."

I do not pout. Ever. But here, now, it's a close thing. There has never been a time when Warrick wasn't at my side when meeting with a head of state. Of course, this one is eight years too late, but other more pressing matters have prevented me from scheduling it until now. And if I keep trying to talk him into attending it with me, I'll be late. And I really cannot keep the President waiting.

"Fine. Be that way." I stick out my tongue before turning and striding from the room. But not before I hear Warrick call out, "When you get back I'll be happy to suck on that for you."

I just about choke on my tongue at his words. But he did improve my mood, which is, unfortunately, something he's had to do much too often of late.

Being who I am, and how important that makes me, I really should be picked up by one of the official cars with bodyguards and a police escort. But that kind of display goes against everything I stand for. And so it is that a two-year-old Mazda is idling at the curb. Uber is such a great invention. The Clan member who invented it has been very well compensated for his genius.

After all these years and with the number of very important people I've met, one would think that I wouldn't get nervous, but I do; every time. It's part of why I usually insist Warrick accompany me. He keeps me grounded like no one else and can take some of the attention off me when I start to get flustered.

But I really can't blame him for not wanting to attend this meeting, considering the topic that'll be discussed.

The Uber driver drops me off a couple of blocks from my actual destination. Keeping a low profile is second nature to me after all these centuries. Plus, with the current political climate, I refuse to let my enemies, as well as the enemies of the man I'm about to meet, know that this meeting is taking place.

Getting through security is extremely easy since the guard checking IDs is a Chosen from an old family. But even if he wasn't, there isn't anything that would keep them from letting me in since I have an appointment.

As I follow my escort to The Oval Office, I'm very much aware of the amount of security. By my count, the number of guards is nearly triple what it was the last time I was here twelve years ago.

"General Meridus." I'm greeted by the woman charged with guarding the door to the President's inner sanctum. While she is not a Chosen, she is privy to who and what I am. There must be people he trusts that I don't know for this to work as it should.

"Please, call me Nick." I smile, keeping my mouth firmly shut to avoid her looking for my fangs. As if I go about with them exposed.

"Of course, sir." Standing from her chair behind a desk that is way too clean for someone as important as her, she smooths her skirt before leading me to the main door.

Opening it, she informs the man working at the desk within, "General Nico Meridus, leader of Sylum Clan, to see you, Mr. President."

President Barack Obama, the forty-fourth President of the United States of America, stands and proves he paid attention to his instructions on greeting a Vampire. He comes only as far forward as the chair he plans to sit in and keeps his arms loose at his sides but acknowledges my presence with a dip of his head and by greeting me with, "Your Excellency."

I swallow an annoyed sigh and barely refrain from rolling my eyes. "Please, Mr. President, call me Nick. 'Your Excellency' is such an outdated title." I approach where he's standing and extend my hand. He takes it, gives it a brief shake, then offers me a seat on the couch next to his chair.

"Then you must call me Barack." His smile is just as charming in person as it is on TV. "Please, sit." I use the motion of my sitting down to hide a smile of my own. Oh, how Warrick will kick himself for missing this meeting.

"First,-" I settle back against the cushions and cross one leg over the other. "-let me apologize for not coming to see you when you first took office eight years ago. And then for not visiting once in the intervening eight years. I've been dealing with the effects of a rather nasty Clan war that saw more than one of my followers killed. Not that that's any excuse. I should have made the time."

Barack mimics my posture and flashes me a smile. "I completely understand." Of course he does. Leadership is the same no matter what you are the leader of. "Wars take a lot of attention. Besides, my predecessors did an excellent job of documenting their meetings with you. I must say, I was expecting someone so very different. And that's not a bad thing. You are much more… um, _Human_?... than I was expecting."

"Do you have much experience with Vampires?"

"Just the ones on staff, as far as I know."

I nod. "I'm glad the official record gave you enough information about Sylum. And of course your advisors have made sure you know what to expect and how to act. Although, to be honest-" I lean forward as if I'm about to tell him a great secret. "-I hate all the pomp and circumstance that's involved with official visits."

He blinks at me. "Oh, well, still can't have the leader of the free world insult one of the founders of the country he runs, now can we?"

This time I do not hide my annoyed sigh. "No, I don't suppose we can." I am beginning to regret not insisting that Warrick accompany me. But he's been working twice as hard as I have these past few years and has more than earned the right to not be my Bonded Mate for a while, even if that means I have to navigate a political meeting on my own.

"So, normally my first meeting with a new President happens within days of them taking office and we spend the time discussing policies and Sylum's involvement. But since you are on your way out, this will be a very different meeting."

"I completely understand." And I can see he does. I know that I don't have to ask him what I came here to ask, and it'll still get done, but I am all about making things official at times like this, so I know that I do need to ask.

"Have you written your book, yet?" I'm referring to the 'book' each President puts together for the next one, detailing all the secrets that only the President can know.

"I was working on it when you arrived."

"Good." I clear my throat and sit forward again. "I need you to leave Sylum out of it."

His eyebrows climb his forehead. "Oh? Like out of _all_ of it or just the recent parts?"

"All of it. I do not trust Trump to not use our involvement against us. He has fired and refused to hire Registered Vampires in the past."

"That's illegal." Barack's not a stupid man. He knows that even someone like Trump can find and exploit the loopholes in that law.

"And so it is. But he found other reasons; _legal_ reasons. I just don't want him knowing that much about me and my people. We don't Register for a reason."

He nods. "Of course. You were promised protection from prosecution in exchange for your help in times of crisis. And after meeting with Trump, I can safely say that he would not honor your agreements with this government."

I sit back on the couch and frown at having my fears confirmed. "I was afraid of that. He is the only one that truly terrifies me when it comes to knowing about this country's beginnings."

Barack nods again. "Is there anything else I can do for you, Nick?"

"Actually, there is." I smile at him. "See, my Mate really wants to meet you but wasn't up to coming here this morning."

He chuckles. "Say no more. Michelle was upset that she couldn't be here to meet you." He glances at his watch. "How about 7 for dinner?"

"Absolutely. Will Sasha and Malia be joining us?"

"If you wish."

"I refuse to interrupt your family time. No business will be discussed at the table. But I would like to meet them, if possible."

"In that case, I'll leave it up to Michelle as to whether or not the girls will join us."

"Fair enough."

"I do have one question of an official nature." I raise my eyebrows to encourage him to continue. "What about the Stargate program? Should I leave that out as well?"

I cough to cover my laugh. Everyone knows that Trump has the potential to become a warmonger and would definitely use the gate as a weapon. "You would have to talk to General Jack O'Neill since he's head of Homeworld Security."

Barack sighs. "He told me to ask you."

Now I do laugh. "Yeah, that sounds like Jack. Use your best judgment, Barack. I'm sure you already know the answer."

He nods his acknowledgment of my statement, then turns the topic to his plans for after he leaves office and how he plans to continue to help make America a nation that is safe for everyone.

Eventually, though, the time for our meeting to end arrives. I stand up, signaling an end to a delightful morning. He follows suit, and we shake hands again. "Thank you for seeing me today, Mr. President."

"My pleasure, General."

A group of serious faced men and women scuttle past me, and I don't wish for even one second that it was me. I have more than enough on my plate running Sylum. If running a Clan as large as mine is this difficult, I can only imagine how much more stressful it would be to run the whole country.

Back at the hotel, I find Warrick still sprawled in the nest of tangled sheets. Never one to refuse the temptation of my naked Mate, I begin stripping as I stalk across the room.

His eyes are heavy lidded with his own arousal, and I feel his gaze as if he was running his hands over my skin.

I'm so impatient to get my hands on him that I jump on the bed, still clad in my boxers and shirt. His fingers tangle with mine on my tie, making the knot even tighter. He takes the expensive silk in both fists and, with a growl, pulls, tearing it in two. He then rips my shirt open, sending buttons flying around the room.

I grab his head to hold him still and shove my tongue down his throat. I'm so intent on reminding him of how I feel, that it takes a very long moment for me to register the frustration he's all but shouting at me through our Bond. It takes another moment to realize it's because I'm still wearing my boxers. But once I do, I roll us so that I can slip them off without giving up his tongue.

He manages to break the kiss and pulls back, chuckling and totally ignoring my whimper, to grab the lube. Soon, though, he's back in my arms and slicking himself up before pressing inside.

I hiss at the burn because he never uses enough, then sigh once he's fully seated. He settles his body on mine, pressing me into the mattress, and begins to slowly fuck me. It usually annoys me when he goes slow, especially when it's obvious I'm in the mood for it to be hard and fast, but today it doesn't. I may have approached him on the bed with every intention of taking him quickly, but it's clear that that is not how I truly want it.

"You always know just what I need." I pull his head down and sink my fangs in his neck, my back arching off the bed as the Bond flashes bright white behind my eyelids, and I find myself in the white room created by the Bond.

"Ah, there you are." He steps into my embrace.

"Slow, huh?" I can't help but tease him.

He shrugs. "What can I say? Lazy seems to be the theme of the day."

And so it is. This morning, our lovemaking was more of a make-out session with some frottage thrown in, and we took our time. "Never let it be said that I complain about being fucked by you."

He chuckles. "Not to change the subject, but… how'd it go?"

"Very well. His Vampire Relations advisors have made sure he knows all the proper protocols for meeting one for the first time."

"And the reason for the meeting? How'd he take that?"

"He completely understands. Even hinted that if given a chance, Trump would try to back out of our agreement with the Presidency."

"Well, fuck." He sighs and slumps in my arms. After a minute, he pulls back. "That's enough." He pushes on my shoulder.

Reluctantly, I pull my fangs from his neck. "But you taste so fucking good!" I put on my best hurt puppy dog face.

He just smirks and nips the tip of my nose. "So do you." He turns my head so he can sink his own fangs into my neck.

The flare of the Bond is so powerful that it pushes me over the edge, which causes him to also climax.

Several minutes later, Warrick stirs enough to grab the wet wipes so we can clean up before snuggling close.

"What's he like?" He rubs his nose against mine.

"Exactly like he is in the media. Couldn't have picked a nicer man for President if I had wanted to. I'm sad to see him go."

"Yeah. Especially with that turnip that's taking his place." He shakes his head. "How could America have gotten it so wrong?"

I hum my agreement and wiggle a bit to get more comfortable. "Can we talk about something else?"

"Sure. Did he invite you to lunch?"

"No. But he did invite _us_ to dinner."

"What time?"

"7," I say around a yawn.

"Nico!" Warrick jumps out of the bed. "How could you let me think about going back to sleep?"

I blink sleepily at where he's hastily pulling on clothes. "Maybe because,-" I lean up on one elbow to look at the clock. "-it's only noon. You have over six hours to get ready."

"Not when I need a new suit, I don't!"

"What's wrong with the suit you brought?" Rolling over, I stretch in such a way that the sheet slips low enough to reveal one ass cheek, and wrap my arms around one pillow. It's a move that has never failed to get my ass fucked. Well, until today, that is.

He frowns at me before flicking the sheet up over my naked ass. "It's last year's. And while that's good enough for a night out, it's not even close for dinner at the White House!"

"Rick, stop. Barack won't know. Besides, he was wearing a suit from two years ago." I get out of bed, all thoughts of sleep and sex vanishing. Taking him by the shoulders, I say, "Not to mention, tonight is far from a formal affair. It's just going to be us joining them for a family dinner. A sport coat will do just fine."

"The President of the United States! The White House!" He says as if we've never had dinner with a sitting President at the White House.

"I know! Trust me, casual is the way to go for tonight."

"You seriously think Michelle isn't going to wear a cocktail dress and make sure Sasha and Malia are dressed in their best dresses?" I cock my head and raise my eyebrows. He gives in with a low growl. "Fine. But I'm getting new jeans, a new shirt, _and_ a new jacket."

"What? No shoes?" I begin pulling on my own clothes, tsking at the rag that used to be my shirt.

"Of course!"

I roll my eyes and laugh silently. "Off to the mall we go, then!" I say, ushering him from the room.

We spend the rest of the afternoon shopping. In addition to the new outfit he insists on, we get some early Christmas gifts. All in all, it is a very enjoyable day.

At 7pm on the dot, Warrick and I are shown into the White House's residence. The whole First Family is lined up in the entrance hall waiting for us. Not for the first time, I hate the protocols that say that I am more important than this man and his family.

Barack steps forward. "General, may I present my wife, Michelle, and our daughters, Malia and Sasha."

I shake their hands. "Mr. President, may I present my Bonded Mate, Warrick Brown."

Another round of handshakes. "What should we call you?" Malia is shushed by her mother.

"No, please, Madam First Lady. You may call me Nick and him,-" I jab my thumb at Warrick. "-Warrick or Rick."

"Then, please, call me Michelle." She replies with a grin.

I dip my head in acknowledgment. "Very well." Looking around, I see that only a couple of Secret Service agents are present. "I think we can dispense with the formalities, now, yes?"

Everyone nods and chuckles. "Good. I hate all that sh-" Warrick starts and looks at the girls before finishing, "-stuff. We are not any more important than you are. In fact, as the First Family of the US, you are definitely _more_ important."

Sasha and Malia laugh at Warrick's near slip. "We're not children, Mr. Warrick," Malia says. "I assure you we've heard much worse."

"Still, a gentleman doesn't talk like that in the company of ladies such as yourselves and your mother." They laugh at him again and shake their heads.

"If you'll follow us?" Michelle leads the way into the family dining room.

The table is a beautiful example of early American craftsmanship. If I'm not mistaken, the table is carved from a single piece of solid Mahogany and was crafted in the mid-nineteenth century.

"This is a beautiful piece." I admire the delicately carved legs and beveled edges.

"Thank you," Michelle says. "My great-great-great grandfather built it for his owner. When his owner died, he freed him and granted him the piece."

My eyebrows climb my forehead. "His children didn't contest it?"

Michelle chuckles. "According to family lore, he was a confirmed bachelor and had no children. He also was kind to all his slaves; allowing families to stay together and for couples to marry, if they so chose. And of course, freeing them after his death."

I nod. Back in the days of slavery, I did something similar; after I purchased a slave, I wrote up documents freeing them and even paying them a wage. I knew that there would come a day when they would be legally free, all of them, and I wanted the ones living on my land to be prepared.

Barack sits at the head of the table and Michelle at the foot with Malia and Sasha on one side and Warrick and me on the other. Dinner is very much family-style, with the food on platters or in bowls meant to be passed around.

"I don't think I've ever met a Vamp in real life before," Malia says, holding out the bread basket for me to take one.

"Malia Obama! You have been told that Vamp is a slur." Michelle scolds her.

"No, it's not. Not for those of us that have been one for as long as I have. I've found that for some reason the younger ones, and by that I mean the ones who were turned within the past twenty years, find it offensive."

"Just how old are you, Mr. Nick?" Sasha spoons some green beans onto her plate.

"Sasha!" Barack scowls down the table in his younger daughter's direction.

I hide my laugh behind my hand. "It's perfectly fine. Not very many people have the courage to ask me questions."

"Because you're this great general?" Sasha's eyes are huge.

"Don't know that people actually know that about me. I think it's mostly that they fear offending me. But I'm not offended!" I hasten to add when I see the spooked look in Michelle's eyes. "I truly do not mind the question."

I take a drink of my tea before wiping my mouth on my napkin. "Would you like to hear my story?"

"Nick…" Warrick places one hand on my arm and gives me a look of warning. My story is bloody, and if turned into a movie, would hold an NC-17 rating.

"Don't worry, Rick." I pat his hand and lean over to kiss his cheek. "I can make it PG-13."

That gets me raised eyebrows all around. With a grin, I begin my tale.

"I was most likely born in 423AD."

"Most likely?" Malia wrinkles her nose.

"Mm, yes. My mother was a slave and back then the births of slaves weren't recorded."

"White people held other white people as slaves!?"

This time I don't hide my chuckle. "Yes. You did study the Roman Empire in school, right?" They both nod. "My mother was sold into slavery when the Romans invaded the village she grew up in."

"So you were born a slave?" This time it's Michelle who asks.

"Yes. My father was the man who owned us. Not that he acknowledged my existence. His wife, according to my mother, hated her. I would be surprised if the wife didn't hate all the female slaves."

I clear my throat. "But anyway. When he died, she sold my mother to a slave market and me to a man who owned gladiators. I was about six years old. I barely remember my time with my mother."

"Oh, I am so sorry." All three women have tears in their eyes. "You don't have to continue."

I take a deep breath and wipe my eyes. "No, it's okay. I haven't told my story in a while."

I take another sip of my tea and grip Warrick's hand, where it's resting on my knee. "I was bought to help clean the cells the gladiators were kept in. Some of them picked on me and one of them didn't like it. But he got in trouble the one time he defended me. He convinced our owner to let me train to become a gladiator."

"How old were you?" I was wondering if Barack would ask any questions.

"About ten. Turns out I was a natural. My opponents always thought they'd be able to beat me easily, even once I began winning.

"Eventually, my owner informed me I had won enough to gain my freedom. I went looking for my mother but she had died just a few months after being sold."

"Oh, Nick." I smile down the table at Michelle and think how much she reminds me of my mother; too bad she doesn't have my mother's soul.

"I had no skills beyond fighting, so I joined the army. And rose quickly to the rank of general. I bought an estate where I could retire. Got married and had four children: two girls and two boys. My wife died in childbirth of our youngest, something I thank the gods for every day because then I didn't have to watch her die too.

"Nearly four years later, and two years into my retirement, an old rival attacked. He personally killed the man that I was in love with while I watched. His men killed all but my youngest son. He took my son and raised him as his own.

"I was crucified, and as I was begging Jupiter for death, a woman named Hatshepsut found me and had her men take me down. She asked me if I wanted to live. Up until that moment, I did not. But with her kneeling over me, I decided that this must be Jupiter's answer to my prayer, so I said yes.

"She Turned me and once I'd finished healing, introduced me to Ardeth Bay. He taught me everything I needed to know about being a Vampire. And helped me begin my search for my family. I have found three of my children and my Soul Mate." I turn to smile at Warrick and get a soft smile and a wink in return.

"Does everyone have a Soul Mate?" Malia leans forward a bit in her chair.

"No, there are two known triads. One is Murphy MacManus, Connor MacManus, and Patrick McKenna. The other triad is Jonathon Clavier, Carlos Alvarez, and Jacob Jensen. And there are some people who have no Soul Mate."

"Is it because there are some who have two Soul Mates?"

I shrug. "No one is sure why we have a Soul Mate to begin with so there is no answer to that question."

"Huh." Malia slumps back in her chair. "How did you two meet?"

"I'll take this one," Warrick says when I open my mouth.

"I was also born a slave, but I was born in Haiti in 1689. My owner was a kind man who allowed his slaves to work for their freedom. In 1723, I owned a ship and was sailing the seas as a pirate. I was attacked and boarded by Nick. He accidentally touched me during the fight, and it was like touching a live wire, not that I knew what that felt like back then.

"But Nick obviously knew what that shock meant because he knocked me out and kidnapped me. When I woke up he explained that I'm his Soul Mate. Luckily I had been raised on stories of Vampires so I believed him. Well, I believed he was a Vampire. It took him several months to convince me I'm his Soul Mate."

"So he courted you?" Leave it to Malia and Sasha to be romantics.

"Not exactly." Warrick and I share a look, and I tilt my head telling him to finish the story however he sees fit. "He-"

"Did he rush things?" Malia looks like she might have an idea of just how I Turned Warrick, but none of us want to say the actual words.

"I did," I answer her. "While we were Bonded, it was incomplete due to him not agreeing to be Turned. I did begin trying to court him after that. It took us years to fully Bond."

"But you're-" Sasha starts to ask another question, but Michelle interrupts her.

"I think that's enough questions for tonight, girls. Clear your plates and you can have dessert in the kitchen."

"Yes, ma'am," they chorus, doing as told.

Michelle and Barack both stand and pick up our plates. "We'll be right back with dessert and coffee."  
= = = =  
Nearly a year later, Margo, my assistant, pokes her head into my office. "You're gonna wanna take the call on line one, Nick."

I frown up at her. I'm currently between lives. Nick Stokes had finally decided to leave Las Vegas after spending eight years trying to carry on after the death of his best friend and lover, Warrick Brown. And so there should not be any official calls.

"Who is it?" I ask, setting my pen down and reaching for the phone.

"He asked that I not tell you."

"That goes against protocol."

"I'm aware. But he's convinced you won't pick up if you know it's him." Her answer tells me exactly who it is. And normally, he'd be right. But this past year has left me with a sour taste in my mouth and I feel the need to give him a piece of my mind.

I pick up the receiver, pressing the button for line one with a sigh and a dismissive nod to Margo. "Nicholas Masters," I give the name I'm thinking of using for my next life, but it still doesn't sit right in my mouth.

 _"Don't you mean General Nico Meridus?"_ His voice grates like nails on a chalkboard and has me gritting my teeth.

"No. I haven't gone by that name in centuries."

_"So you don't deny it?"_

"What? That I'm a Vampire? Why would I?"

_"Because you're not Registered."_

I don't even try to hide my amusement at his feeble attempt at intimidation. "Says who?"

_"I've had people going over the Registry."_

"Wow." I'm actually impressed. "There are millions of names on that list. I feel sorry for the people you forced to do that."

_"They had help from a computer. Someone made a program that did a name search."_

"Still. Millions. Of names. The Registry has been around for just about a hundred years now."

I can hear him grinding his teeth. He's getting angry at how calm I am. Good. Angry idiots tend to get even stupider. _"There is no one with your name on the list."_

"Really? You know each and every name I've used over the past fifteen hundred years? 'Cause I can't even remember them all. Besides, the Registry became a thing during World War One and I wasn't using any form of Nicholas at that time." That's a lie. I've always used some form of Nico, but he doesn't need to know that.

_"You need to produce proof that you're Registered."_

"No. I don't." I lean back in my chair and put my feet up on my desk. I wrote the laws pertaining to the Registry, despite being against it, and no Vampire who has been a Vampire for more than fifty years has to provide proof. "But somehow I don't think you called to discuss whether or not I'm Registered. So please tell me who gave you privileged information and get to the real reason for your call before I hang up out of boredom."

 _"Fine."_ I fully expect spittle to hit my cheek, he spits the word so harshly. _"I am deeply offended that you have not come to see me."_

Oh, whoever told him that is in deep trouble. The Dusting kind of trouble.

"Now, why would I do that?"

_"You're the leader of the only Clan in America."_

"And? Seriously, Don, that does not mean I have to visit you."

 _"It's Mr. President to you."_ Oh, now I've really pissed him off.

"No. That is a title of respect and I don't respect you. Hell, I don't even like you."

_"You're speaking treason!"_

I laugh, and he actually growls. "Ah, no, Don. I know what treason looks and sounds like. I was around when the Founding Father started the Revolution, after all. Plus, this is still a free country and I'm entitled to my opinion."

_"You will be in my office in two days!"_

"Or what? I'm a private citizen. You cannot command me. I have the right to say no to you." My feet hit the floor with a loud thump as The General comes to the front. "And just so there's no misunderstanding: I will not come to DC to see you. You do not have that kind of authority over me. Now, I'm hanging up. I'd appreciate it if you told whoever gave you this number and told you of my previous visits to my friends who just so happened to be President that they are to be in _my_ office within the next forty-eight hours or I will cut off all Vampires and Chosen in DC."

I can hear him trying to form a reply, but as always happens when The General comes out, he's rendered speechless.

"Now, good day." And I hang up, just barely refraining from slamming the receiver down.  
= = = =  
Two days later, Margo once again pokes her head into my office. "Nick, you have a visitor."

I blink up at her, my mind slowly leaving the reports I had been reading. "Who is it?"

Instead of answering, she just steps back and motions to someone out of my line of sight. "It's alright. Just tell him the truth."

A woman, who couldn't be more than twenty, hesitantly steps over the threshold. I frown when I don't hear a heartbeat. I know all my followers on sight and she is not one of them. Nor is she from any of the Chosen families. "He won't punish me?"

"Sorry, dear." Margo smiles sadly and shakes her head. "He will but if you tell him the whole truth and don't leave anything out, it won't be so bad."

That has me narrowing my eyes as I stand to greet my visitor. "Welcome,…" I wait for her to supply her name.

"Suzie. Suzie Truman." She turns to look at Margo as she slowly makes her way to my desk. Margo urges her on with a small smile and a slight push to her back.

"Suzie. It's nice to meet you." I extend one hand toward the chairs in front of my desk. "Please have a seat and tell me why you're here."

Suzie bites her lower lip and a single tear slides down one cheek. "I am so sorry, General. I have no excuse for what I did."

"Just tell me." When I sit back down, Suzie releases the death grip she's had on the straps of her backpack and slips it off her shoulders before taking a seat as well.

With a shaky breath, she starts telling me why she's here.

"My parents are super religious and dyed in the wool Republicans. They are some of the biggest Trump supporters around. I was raised on their rhetoric, not even allowed to think for myself.

"When I turned eighteen, I left home. Ended up in DC and started working on Trump's campaign." She stops to swallow a sob, and more tears fall down her cheeks. "Did you know he hates Vampires even more than he hates immigrants?" She shakes her head. "He wants to tighten the restrictions on Registered Vampires and toughen the punishment for those that aren't Registered."

"I'm aware, yes." I keep my voice soft. So far, nothing she's said is enough to anger me. But I am beginning to figure out just why she's here. If I'm right, I will go as easy on her as I can since it obviously upsets her.

"A year ago I met Marcus Adams. About four months ago, he told me he's a Vampire. I had never met one before, as far as I know. I was terrified because I had been taught that all Vampires want is to drain me of my blood."

She looks up at me, and the anguish in her eyes breaks my heart. "But Marcus wasn't like that. He was nice and kind and made me laugh." She swipes at the tears still running down her cheeks.

"Is he your Sire?"

She nods. "He was, yes."

"Was?" I don't really know Marcus, he's relatively young, having only been Turned about ten years ago, but his Sire is Tim Speedle, a member of my Council and one of my oldest friends.

Sobs wrack her frame as she hides her face in her hands. "I am so sorry, General!"

"Suzie." I move around my desk to her side, where I take her hands gently in mine and pull them from her face. "Please call me Nick. I haven't been a General in about a hundred years."

She gives a wet sounding chuckle. "Marcus said I was to show you proper respect."

"True, but I've given you permission to call me by my given name." I brush the hair from her face. "Now, tell me why you're so sorry." I sit down in the other chair, keeping one of her hands in mine.

She takes a shaky breath and resumes her tale. "Right after he told me he's a Vampire, Marcus asked me if I wanted to be with him forever. I asked him to let me think about it.

"I went to some friends who are big Trump supporters and told them. They told me to let him Turn me and to get any secrets from him that could be used against Vampires. When I said that I didn't want to be a Vampire forever, they said that if I kill Marcus then I'll go back to being Human."

"Hm," I hum. I think I know where this is going and I can feel anger building in my chest. Anger that Trump supporters thought they could take me down and that they tried to use this poor girl to do so. "I guess Marcus didn't tell you that a lot of what is known about Vampires is stuff we made up to protect ourselves from Humans?"

She shakes her head. "He Turned me after telling me about the phone number and that you visit all the Presidents within days of them taking office. A couple of days later I was all set to kill him when some Hunters broke into our apartment and killed him." She bites her lip again to stop another sob. "I don't want to be a Vampire forever!"

Sighing, I pat her hand. There's no way I can Dust this girl, nor can I punish her too harshly. She was basically brainwashed by her parents and then used as a pawn in Trump's campaign to get rid of all Vampires. "There isn't anything I can do about that, Suzie."

The sound that comes out of her mouth isn't entirely Human. "Please!"

I shake my head. "I refuse to Dust you. That's what it's called when you kill a Vampire because we turn to dust." The look she gives me has my resolve slipping slightly. "Finish your tale."

"I told my friends what I had learned. They bragged about kil-Dusting Marcus. I was furious. Luckily Marcus had his blood delivered and since no one knew he was dead-" She gives a slight shrug. I can tell it bothers to have to continue drinking blood to survive. "A couple of days ago my friends took me to see the President. He asked if the information I had was accurate. I told him it was. He called you right in front of me. You were on speaker phone. I heard your threat and knew I had to come to you."

"Okay." I pat her hand again and get up to return to my chair behind my desk. "Thank you for being honest with me. But I have to know something. If you're a Trump supporter, why are you here?"

She drops her gaze to where she's picking at her fingernails. "After what they did to me, I don't think I can support him anymore. I may have said yes but I was forced to agree to being Turned." When she looks back up, I can see the beginnings of a fire in her eyes. "In my book that makes me a No Consent."

"Mine, too." I smile at her and lean forward to stack my arms on my desk. "Here's what I'm gonna do for you. I'm going to take you under my wing. Normally, Tim would be the one to take over your training since he was Marcus' Sire but with everything else, I'm going to train you."

"But I don't want to be a Vampire!"

"Do you want to die? Because that's the only other option here, Suzie." When she shakes her head, I continue. "Give me a year. If at the end of that time, you still don't want to be a Vampire, I'll personally Dust you."

She thinks about it for several long moments. Then she nods. "Okay."

I smile. "Excellent." I slap my hands down on my desk. "Normally, there'd be a party to introduce you to the Clan and to have you officially pledge your Oath to me but since I need to convince you to stay alive, we'll hold off on that until the year is up."

Getting up, I help her stand and escort her to the door. "Margo," I call, opening the door. "Please show Suzie to her room and help her get settled." Tucking a finger under her chin, I get Suzie to look at me. "I'll see you in the kitchen at 7 in the morning."

Her apprehension is nearly tangible, but she nods her assent and follows Margo down the hall toward the main stairs.  
= = = =  
The next morning, Suzie shuffles into the kitchen a few minutes before 7, yawning and scratching at her head.

"Morning!" I call cheerfully. Ever since leaving Vegas, and the night shift at the Vegas crime lab, I've rediscovered my love of mornings. "How'd you sleep?"

She grumbles under her breath; it's clear that she is not a morning person. Sitting on one of the stools at the island, she lays her head on her crossed arms.

"Hey!" I call, shaking her slightly when it becomes apparent she's about to fall back asleep. "Your lessons begin now." I plunk a glass full of cloned blood down next to her elbow. "Drink up! You're gonna need your strength."

The look she throws me when she lifts her head has me chuckling. Oh, if looks could kill. "Ugh!" She barely manages to swallow her first sip of the blood in her glass. "What type is this? It's disgusting." She puts the glass down and pushes it a few inches away.

"It's cloned blood. And is your punishment."

"I've been properly punished." She makes 'gimme' hands. "Now, may I please have some real blood?"

"Nope. Not a single drop of real blood will be permitted to pass your lips for the rest of your life."

"That's not fair!"

"Really? This is the punishment for Vamps caught unRegistered. Along with a hundred years in a solitary cell. Think about what they go through if they're Mated. Plus they're only fed once a month. You-" I tap her on the nose. "-are free and can feed anytime you want."

Her brows lower in confusion. "Mates?"

"Marcus didn't tell you _anything_ about Vampires, did he?"

"I guess not."

"Most Vampires have a Soul Mate. Some don't and some have two. If Marcus had been your Mate, you would have been Dusted with him because the act of Turning your Mate starts the Bonding process."

"So who is my Mate?"

I shrug. "You'll know when you meet them."

"How?"

"This isn't the first lesson I had planned, but I guess we can start here." With a wave of my hand over my shoulder, I beckon her to follow me back to my office.

Once there, I sit behind my desk and motion for her to take one of the remaining chairs. She sits in the same one she sat in last night.

"So, as I stated earlier, most everyone has a Soul Mate. Most Humans never meet theirs, but some do. You won't know it unless one or both of you are Vampires.

"I am far from being the oldest Vampire around so all I know, I've learned from others. As far as I know, no one knows why some have a Soul Mate and others don't. We also don't know why when a Vampire meets their Soul Mate and they touch bare skin, they feel an electric shock. I don't think anyone even knows how this discovery was made. All I can tell you, is that when you touch the bare skin of your Soul Mate, you'll know it."

"And I have to Turn him?"

"No. We have laws regarding this. If you meet your Soul Mate and they're married, you cannot do anything to break up their marriage. If you meet your Soul Mate and they're under eighteen, you must inform their parents, and then wait until they are a legal adult."

"Why do you keep using 'they' instead of 'him'?"

I clear my throat. How will she react to hearing that her Soul Mate just might be another woman? "Because the soul of your Mate just might be in the body of a woman."

"Never in a million years!" She screeches and jumps up to pace a circle around the room. "I am not gay!"

"None of us are."

"What?"

"Suzie, please sit down." She glares at me but does as I ask. "We are attracted to the soul, not the body it's in."

"So you're telling me that all the Vampires who are Mated to people of the same gender, don't find them attractive?"

"Of course we do. But it's because of the soul."

Her eyes narrow on my face. "You're lying."

"I am. Sort of." With a shrug, I lean back in my chair. "See, you will be attracted to the soul first. But over time you'll come to find the beauty in their body as well."

"Homosexuality is a sin. The Bible says so."

"Hm," I hum. "I'm not going to debate that with you. You can believe what you want. Just know that if you meet your Mate and they're female and already a Vampire, you either stay unBonded, which isn't good for either of you, or you get over your homophobia and Bond."

"This isn't making me what to stay a Vampire," she mutters, shifting slightly in her chair.

"But it is how it is."

She sighs, and we get down to the business of me teaching her what she needs to know in order to survive in her new life.  
= = = =  
As the years pass, I watch as the America I helped create is systematically destroyed by a crooked businessman who thought that running a country would be the same as running a company. Which it's not. Not even if he hadn't filed for bankruptcy a whopping _six_ times, things are so much more personal with the running of a country. Mostly because if you offend the wrong person, you will find yourself at war. And of course, we do. Or at least on the verge of war. How World War Three ended up not happening, I'll never know.

If I had any doubts about keeping Sylum's agreement with the Presidency a secret, seeing how he treats the American citizens who just want to be treated fairly, something that Barack was working towards, settles it.

Suzie has taken to being a Vampire quite well, all things considered. She has flourished in an environment of open mindedness, which I knew she would. One of the things she begins exploring is her spirituality. After introducing her to several Vampires that are centuries older than me, she begins to see the problems with Christianity and begins questioning her own beliefs. I encourage her to take trips alone to visit holy places, but she always insists I join her. Warrick just smirks at me each time I grumble about taking yet another trip to some religious place.  
= = = =  
In late 2018, I find her sitting at one of the library tables, pouring over some books about Vampire history.

"Hey," I say softly, she still hasn't learned how to remain aware of her surroundings while occupied with other things, and set a glass of blood on the table.

She looks up at me. "Oh, hey."

Walking around the table, I sit in the chair opposite her. "Whatcha up to?"

She shrugs. "Not much." Absentmindedly, she takes a sip. The look on her face has a smirk crossing mine. "This isn't cloned blood!"

"No, it's not. It's also not fresh. It's been in the bank for several weeks."

"But, I thought…"

I nod. "I can admit when I'm wrong. You've been very good. You admitted your mistake, apologized, and have worked hard to do better, to _be_ better. That deserves a reward."

"So I get nearly expired blood for one meal?"

My smirk stretches into a grin. "No. Your next feeding will be newer blood. But still not fresh. Eventually, I'll take you to a Diner and teach you to feed from a Human."

She can't hold back the laugh of excitement. "Thank you, Nick."

"You're welcome. Now, what do you say about a trip to Japan?"  
= = = =  
My scientists began warning that another plague was due decades before Covid-19 hit, but none of us thought it would happen when and how it did. And Trump's response to the growing pandemic is yet another mark against him.

The memory of the influenza pandemic in 1919 is still so very fresh in the minds of those Vampires who were alive to see it. As soon as I was warned of Corona, I ordered all my followers, mainly the Humans, to take precautions. The last thing I need is to have whole families of Chosen die from a preventable disease. I also set my scientists to work finding a cure and vaccine right away. But it proves tricky since the symptoms mimic other illnesses in the beginning.

It quickly becomes evident that Trump should never be given control of even the smallest of companies, much less a world power like America. The man threatened to send in the military to stop people from exercising their Constitutional right to protest.

I started encouraging all Chosen who are interested in politics to run for the Presidency as soon as they can. But because all of the opponents are Chosen, I cannot publicly endorse any of them prior to when the final candidates are announced. But my favorite is Bernie Sanders, just like it was in 2016. He's been a favored Chosen for decades, and I know he'd make the perfect President.

While I do mourn for this country when he has to drop out due to lack of funds, I still support the remaining candidates, with most of my support going to Joe Biden.

I am usually a hands-off leader, but this time I feel I must 'encourage' my followers to vote for Biden. Of course, if they chose not to, there isn't anything I can do about it, nor would I actually know. But they all can see how much worse the world will get if Trump is re-elected.  
= = = =  
The night of November 3, I sit up watching the election coverage with my Council: Warrick, Tim Speedle, Horatio Caine, Tony DiNozzo, and Jethro Gibbs; all of us wishing and praying that Biden wins. This country will not survive another four years with Trump as President.

I shouldn't be surprised that it isn't until November 7 that they can announce that Biden wins, but I am. Never in the two hundred and forty-four years this country has been around have I seen an election take so long to be declared.

But the right man won and so the country, and the rest of the world, rejoices.  
= = = =  
A week after Biden takes the Oath of Office, I'm ushered into the Oval Office.

As his advisers have instructed him, he comes as far forward as the chair he plans to sit in for our meeting, the same chair each President I've ever visited has sat in, and waits for me to approach him.

"Your Excellency," he says, dipping his head.

"Mr. President," I reply with a smile. "I'm here to tell you how Sylum Clan can help you restore this country."


End file.
